History
by GundamWingFanatic90
Summary: Something that seemed so insignificant at the time made such a difference to his future, Maedhros recalls. Rated PG for slight romance.


**_'History' submitted 12-14-07._**

**_Idea that popped into my head late at night. Hope you like it!_**

_**Summary: Something that seemed so insignificant at the time made such a difference to his future, Maedhros recalls. Rated PG for slight romance. May become multi-chapter.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Silmarillion. It all belongs to mister J.R.R. Tolkien. **_

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HISTORY.  
_**A Vignette.  
**__**By GundamWingFanatic90.  
**__**Written: 12-13-07.  
**__**Time: 1 hour.  
**__**Theme: Remembrances.

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He remembers.

_Maedhros was not called Maedhros back then. No, he was called Nelyafinwë, Nelyo, Maitimo, Russandol, but never Maedhros. That name did not come until much later. For now, he was happy. For now, he was innocent. For now, he held no thoughts of the future. For now, he was not a Kinslayer. For now, he had not been tortured and marred. For now, he was a child._

He remembers the music.

_Some of the guests had struck up a lively tune that Maitimo did not recognize. It was joyous and energetic, so different from the beautiful-but-solemn tunes the child was used to. He decided he liked it._

He remembers the reverence.

_Many of the elves Maitimo recognized had cleared a square in the middle of the verdant courtyard. He tilted his head in curiosity, trying to edge around the legs of his father and mother in order to get a look at what was happening. When he finally managed to nudge his way politely to the front of the crowd, he stood in awe to watch as a regal-looking she-elf wearing a black-on-silver gown walked with her eyes closed to stand in the center of the square. She carried an ornately carved wooden flute in one hand. She stood stone still for several moments, her arms limp at her sides, and face tilted downward, eyes closed. Everything was so silent that one could have heard a pin drop. Then she slowly tilted her head up, lifting her arms in what looked to be a silent prayer before placing the end of the flute to her lips. Silence reigned for a second longer._

He remembers the dancing.

_A quiet tune echoed tenderly through the square, slow at first, and then gradually picking up in pace and volume as it went on. When the guitar hit a certain note, a soft burst of sound met Maitimo's ears, and he watched as the she-elf's fingers seemed to move with a mind of their own, dancing over the flute's holes in a secret sequence that only she seemed to know. Soon a drum picked up the beat. Then the dancing began._

He remembers the majesty.

_The she-elf, not stopping her flute-playing, began to dance in place, her feet tapping gently on the earth beneath her. Then, as the song became more intense, more jig-like, she began to bounce on her toes and twirl. The tune changed slightly, and she spun backwards, eyes still closed, her left toe sweeping the grass. Then she was airborne for an instant, her raven tresses gleaming in the torchlight as they undulated with her movements. It was an invigorating thing to watch, seeing her wild-yet-refined grace. Because that was all that the dance could be described as: Grace incarnate. She moved her whole body to the melody, a realignment of an arm here, a shifting of a leg there, an ardent shrug of a shoulder when a faster, more intricate sound was released._

He remembers the intensity.

_Before he knew it, the tune had ended, and the she-elf opened her eyes. They were a shade of silver he had never seen before, and held wisdom, sadness, joy, merriment, and mischief in equal abundance as they invited the crowd around him to join in the dance. The she-elf struck up another lively tune, and Maitimo saw his parents twirl into motion as they entered the square, beginning a chain reaction that had many of the elves around him merging easily into the joyous furor of the foreign motions. Soon he was left alone in the crowd on the sidelines, barely waist-high to even the shortest elleth, but he did not mind. He liked watching his parents' faces as they danced: They always contained such merriment that was sometimes lacking in other parts of their daily lives._

He remembers her eyes.

_Before he knew it, the dance had ended, but another one had started up. Maitimo frowned a bit, wondering where his parents had gone. He looked around for them, slight fear beginning to build in his heart. Taking a few steps forward, he walked around a bit to try to get a better view. It was in this manner that he nearly bumped into the she-elf flutist who had played so heart-wrenchingly beautifully earlier. He stared up into her endless silver eyes, entranced, and she returned his grey gaze steadily, a glint of mischief in her stare._

He remembers her smile.

_She studied him for an instant, and then a benevolent smile quirked her lips up at the corners, and she knelt so that they could see eye-to-eye. She gently asked him what the matter was, and when he replied, her smile grew again. A slender hand tenderly took one of his own, making him gasp in surprise at the electric touch, and she wordlessly led him over to where his parents were looking for him._

He remembers her touch.

_At the time, he did not know what that electric jolt was that he felt when their bare hands met. At the time, he did not know that the future was to bring bloodshed and sorrow to him. At the time, he did not know of the great love that would await him many years away. At the time, all he knew was that the she-elf was nice, and she was leading him to his parents, and that he liked the way her strangely-calloused hand felt warm as it encompassed his own tiny one._

He remembers her gift.

_When he asked her if she would be his friend, she simply smiled knowingly and bent to look him in the eye once more. Then she took his hand and pressed her carved wooden flute into his palm, kissed his forehead, and told the child that they would always be friends as long as he possessed that flute and kept it safe. Maitimo's eyes lit up at the prospect, and he raced over to his parents, wanting to introduce his new friend to them and show them the flute. She watched him go with a sad smile that was filled with the knowledge of the horrors that would come into his future. But when he brought his parents back to meet her, she had vanished. He never saw her again until many centuries had passed._

He remembers, because they are no longer friends.

_His serious grey eyes were dark with something unnamable as they bored into her own where he veritably towered over her. In his left hand he clutched the ancient carved wooden flute, the shaft and mouthpiece worn smooth from much tender use and loving care. A frown was upon his brow as he stepped forward. Gingerly taking her hand in his, he pressed the smooth flute into her palm, imitating her gesture from long ago._

He remembers, because they are so much more.

_Instead of kissing her on the forehead, like she had done so many long centuries ago, before the torturous darkness of his future had come to pass, before his death had stolen his breath and burned him to ash, he kissed her on the mouth. It was a tender kiss, a desperate kiss, full of both comprehension and contradiction. She returned it fully._

He remembers, because she is right next to him.

He remembers, because she will always be there.

He remembers, because after all that he did, she still came back for him.

He remembers, because she loves him, and he loves her.

He remembers, because neither of them can live without the other.

_I love you._

_I love you, too._

He remembers, because they will never be parted again.

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**_Hope you liked it. Slight allusions to future books in my Iaur Min series._**

_**Maedhros** - Roughly 'Well-Formed Copper'. Maedhros' self-given epessë, gained after his torture at Thangorodrim.  
**Maitimo** - Roughly 'Well-Formed One'. Maedhros' mother-name.  
**Nelyafinwë** - Roughly 'Third Finwë'. Maedhros' father-name.  
**Nelyo** - An epessë of Maedhros. Likely taken from his father-name and likely given by Fëanor.  
**Russandol** - Roughly 'Copper-Top'. An epessë of Maedhros from his childhood._

_**Feedback is much appreciated. Thanks!**_

**_-Fanatic_**


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